Chapter Eleven
Hunter
There were very few things I loathed about playing rugby, but getting weighed and measured was the worst by far.
Standing on scales, having my skinfolds pinched with callipers, and being measured in every single way possible was enough to bring me out in a cold sweat and send my brain spiralling.
I knew it was important because it allowed the coaching team and our nutritionists to optimise our performance and adjust our training and dietary plans to help us succeed.
And if I wanted to keep playing professional rugby, then it was something I had to deal with three or four times a year.
But that didn’t mean I wanted to go through it.
Once upon a time, I’d practically starved for two or three days beforehand—from after our last match until the tests—and then poured over the results until I went dizzy, overanalysing everything and finding faults with as many things as possible before throwing myself at the gym.
I probably still would if I was allowed to see the results.
I was fifteen when I’d first really started to notice how much taller I was than everyone else and that I wasn’t as muscular.
At the time, I was told I needed to eat more, eat certain things, exercise more, gain more muscle, and force my developing body to conform to the standards set by my coaches.
Back then, I thought it was what I needed to do, but in hindsight that was the start of my descent into orthorexia and an exercise obsession. It was easy to disguise as dedication, and I was praised for my work ethic and appearance. But all that did was feed the monster living in my brain.
It went unnoticed for years, and all the while I obsessively counted calories, tracking macros and micronutrients until my head spun, and spent hours in the gym until I was two seconds away from collapsing.
On some level I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself.
Because I’d only ever been praised for my fixation.
And if my coaches were telling me it was good, then how could it ever be bad?
The only reason I’d gotten help was because of Bailey.
We’d been friends for a while then, both young, both hungry for a professional career, both willing to do anything. But Bailey had realised my behaviour went beyond the realms of healthy and had encouraged me to get help.
It hadn’t been easy, and I’d fought him at first, arguing there was nothing wrong. But, in hindsight, I was so relieved he’d pushed as much as he had, planting his feet against the storm of my anger and fear and waiting for me to wear myself out. Until I was finally ready to listen.
After that, I’d clung to him for dear life, and he’d been my light in the dark, offering me support when I was drowning in broad daylight, invisible to everyone else. He’d seen my pain and my struggle, and he hadn’t abandoned me when I’d tried to push him away.
I owed him everything. And I doubted I’d ever truly be able to put into words what his actions meant to me. What he meant.
When everything had come to light, it had been decided by Clive, the other people who knew about my history, and me that I wasn’t allowed to see anything and any discussions about changes were done with Wayne, the club’s sports psychologist, present.
I also didn’t know when the testing was going to be done, because I knew if it was in my calendar, I’d fixate on it.
I might be in recovery, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have to fight against my brain and the casual suggestions that threatened to consume me. And on days like these, they were louder than ever.
“Okay, Hunter? How’re you doing?” Stevie asked. He was the strength and conditioning coach responsible for doing all of this, and a more understanding person I couldn’t have asked for.
“Fine,” I said tightly, keeping my eyes fixed on the far side of the gym wall and resisting the urge to look down at the iPad in Stevie’s hand.
“Are you going to be honest with me?”
“Not if I don’t have to be.”
“Sorry, mate, I need you to be honest, please. Do you need me to get someone?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ll be fine. Just want to get it all over.”
“Totally understandable, we’re nearly there.” He smiled at me encouragingly. “Did you do anything nice on Sunday?”
He was trying to distract me, and I appreciated his efforts.
“Not really,” I said, my mind suddenly wandering back to the afternoon.
When Aiden had stopped by to see us on his way back to Leicester.
It was only meant to be a quick visit, but the three of us still ended up in bed, covered in sweat and cum.
A tiny smile curled across my lips as the memory slowly enveloped me.
“A friend dropped in to visit me and Bailey,” I said casually. Then, before he could start asking questions, I added, “And I started playing Hades II.”
“Yeah? Is that good? I enjoyed the first one. Hoping I’ll get time to play it soon, although Mia recently started crawling, so I doubt it.”
I chuckled, remembering all the dads in the locker room talking about when their kids had started becoming mobile.
“Yeah, I really like it. It’s similar enough to the first one that it feels familiar, but it’s really fresh too.
A few new gods, new boons, new dungeons, new weapons—all that cool stuff.
And the main character is cool as fuck!”
“The design in the first one was awesome. I’m gonna have to find a way to play it, even if I’m doing runs at, like, eleven when everyone’s in bed.
My girlfriend really enjoyed the first one too, so she’d probably be pissed if I started playing it without her.
” He smiled fondly as he tapped something onto the iPad.
“I’ll get two copies. She’ll probably beat it before me, same as last time. ”
“Bailey likes yelling at the screen while I play,” I said with a roll of my eyes.
“I think he thinks he’s being helpful.” He’d watched me last night too, waving at the TV whenever things appeared and telling me which doors he thought I should take when there were options.
“He always tells me to pick Aphrodite’s boons. Or Ares’s.”
Mostly because he thought they were both hot. And in love.
As much as he tried to hide it, Bailey was a romantic at heart. It was why he’d always find all the romance options in games and follow them all, even if he had to replay it multiple times. I was tempted to get him Date Everything and watch him try to figure out who to start with.
I wondered if Aiden was a romantic too or if he didn’t really care. It shouldn’t have mattered—it wasn’t like we had that kind of relationship—but I still wanted to know.
“I always liked Dionysus,” Stevie said. “Evie likes Ares. And Artemis.”
We kept chatting about games, swapping stories about our gaming fails and favourites and silly anecdotes about things we’d done.
I was still aware of Stevie doing things, especially when he picked up the callipers for the skinfold test, but then he’d asked me a question about my favourite game series and I’d found myself wandering off down a rabbit hole of ranking Assassin’s Creed against Fallout, Call of Duty, and Pokémon.
I’d barely noticed the pinches, which I guessed was the point, and I was proud of myself for letting my mind drift away onto something else.
It was the first time I’d really been able to do that.
Maybe it helped that I was also remembering the year Bailey and I had obsessively walked around Ibiza playing Pokémon Go, drunk out our arses at three in the morning. That’d been fun.
I had a vague memory of a group of drunk girls coming towards us out of a club, and Bailey yelling something like, “Don’t worry, I’m trying to catch that Sandshrew.
It’s a shiny!” They’d ended up joining us walking around for an hour trying to catch Pokémon, and it had ended surprisingly wholesomely with Bailey and me walking them back to their hotel.
Bailey had then ended up falling in the pool because he’d been trying to catch a Lapras and we’d been chased off the premises by security.
If we’d been hoping to get laid, we’d failed spectacularly. But he’d still caught the Lapras.
I guessed that said something about his priorities.
“All done,” Stevie said. “You can put your shirt on again.”
“Oh, that was… easy.”
“You did great. I know this is difficult for you.” His expression was proud as I pulled the rest of my kit on. “Got any questions for me?”
“What do… Do you think there’ll be a lot of changes? I know you won’t give me the results, but I’m wondering if my programme will be similar to what I’ve been doing? Or last season’s, I guess, since we’re actually into the season now, not pre. I liked that one.”
“Yeah, I think we can use that,” Stevie said. “I’ll chat to Gavin, Clive, and Wayne, but if it worked for you, I think we can stick to it.”
“Cool, great. Thanks.” There was a strange feeling of relief sitting under my ribs.
I’d liked what we’d done last season, and it had given me the structure my brain craved, but with clear boundaries for me to stick to.
The food had worked out well for me too.
And Bailey, since we usually cooked together outside of our meals at the club.
“Do you need anything from me? Want to talk to anyone now you’re done?”
“Nope. I just wanna get out of here and go and throw a ball around.”
“Sounds good. I think you’re outside after lunch,” he said, checking his watch. “I’ll come down to the canteen with you. Then I’ll grab the backs after lunch.”
“Not like they usually do much,” I said with a wry chuckle. I wasn’t sure I was feeling particularly hungry, but I knew I needed to eat. “Pretty sure last week they were all playing ‘it’ instead of doing any work.”
Stevie snorted. “Who won?”
“Devon. He teamed up with Danny to take everyone out then turned on him. Danny wouldn’t stop whining about it for hours.
” Technically, Devon had cheated, but it was Danny and they all lovingly considered him fair game.
Probably because of his terrible mullet and moustache combo.
Why Ezra thought it was sexy was beyond me.
“Sounds about right,” Stevie said, flicking off the lights as we walked out of the treatment room he’d set up shop in, iPad tucked under his arm.
We chatted a bit more as we walked downstairs towards the canteen, where I noticed Bailey lingering by the door for me. There was a worried expression on his face he couldn’t hide, not even when he spotted me and smiled.
“There you are,” he said as Stevie slipped past us into the canteen, which was already packed and noisy. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Sure? Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not much to talk about,” I said, my gaze roaming across the tables through the glass, trying to see what was on offer for lunch.
It looked like there was maybe some salmon?
Or some chicken. Salmon would be good. With broccoli.
And maybe a few new potatoes because I needed carbs.
I could manage that. Maybe some fruit salad.
They had cookies too, but I didn’t know if I wanted one.
Cookies made me think of Aiden.
Jonny had brought some of his cookies into training once and I’d split a white chocolate sprinkle one with Bailey.
It’d been fucking amazing. The sort of cookie that ruined all other ones forever.
I didn’t eat a lot of sweets, didn’t always think they were worth it, but I’d do a lot of things for another one of those cookies.
“Did it go okay? How’re you feeling?” Bailey asked.
“Yeah, it was fine actually. We talked about gaming. I told him you yell at me while I play Hades.”
“I don’t yell at you! I yell at the game. That’s different.”
“I guess.” I shot him a grin. He was worried about me, he always was when we were measured, and I understood why. But I didn’t want him to worry. He already did enough of that. “Do you think next time Aiden comes to visit he’d bring me a cookie?”
“What?” Bailey did a comical double take, staring at me like I’d suddenly grown another head.
“Yeah, one of those white chocolate ones. With the rainbow sprinkles. I think I’d really like one.”
“Oh… yeah, okay. Want me to order you some?”
“Maybe? Would that be weird?”
“No, why would it?”
“Dunno.” I shrugged. I didn’t know how to word all the feelings bouncing around in my chest. There were too many of them to even name. And I wasn’t even sure I wanted to know what they all were, because then I’d have to consider acknowledging them.
“It’s his business,” Bailey said. “I’m sure he’d like it if we ordered. We’d be supporting him, y’know?”
“Yeah, that’s true.” I frowned. “Do you even know what it’s called? His business.”
“No, but we can ask him.” He was still looking at me closely, worried lines appearing on his forehead. “Are you sure you’re alright? Did something happen with Stevie? Do you need—”
I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed, feeling the solid muscle under my fingers. “I’m fine, seriously. I don’t like doing that shit, but it’s done now and there’s a good chance I can stay on the same programme as last season.”
“Okay. That’s good.” He sounded cautiously relieved. But he didn’t look it. “Do you want to get some lunch?”
“Yeah, probably should.” I was a little hungrier now, and while I didn’t feel totally up to eating, Bailey would worry more if I didn’t.
And I didn’t want to upset him. As much as he tried to hide it, these days were hard for him too because he was hyper-alert, watching me like a hawk in case something happened.
I hated how much I made him worry, but I didn’t know how to stop him. Telling him not to worry only seemed to make it worse. Like he thought I was covering something up.
Maybe I needed to distract him. And as much as I wanted to drag him into the toilets and suck his dick, that wasn’t going to work. Not in the middle of the day.
And it would bring up a lot of the feelings I was trying to avoid.
That only left one other option. I shot him a grin over my shoulder as I pushed open the canteen door. “Hey, remember when we were in Ibiza a couple of years ago and you fell in that hotel pool trying to catch a Lapras?”